


Tangents in Tandem

by bravebatgirl



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: And always will be, Anne and Gilbert, Anne is a queen, Anne to Save the Day, Boycott Billy Andrews, F/M, Fix-It, Gilbert is a clown, I'm still not okay, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Save Josie Pye, but not here, written because 3x06 destroyed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravebatgirl/pseuds/bravebatgirl
Summary: Gilbert comes to the realisation that onions aren't the reason behind Anne's tears (this time).(written because episode 6 destroyed my soul and I don't know who this man who looks like Gilbert is)





	Tangents in Tandem

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo this is my very first AWAE fic. so hiya hehe
> 
> Basically, #WeAreAllClowns after whatever the hell episode six was, and I'm still not okay, so I wanted to fix everything. This is set about a day after that last scene, so Anne has written that article, but hasn't yet published it anywhere. 
> 
> songs i listened to while writing (to help set The Mood):  
~ anaheim by nicole zefanya  
~ surrender by natalie taylor  
~ deep end by birdy  
~ dancing with your ghost by sasha sloan  
~ mothers by daughter  
~ i found by amber run  
~ way down we go by KALEO  
~ must have been the wind by alec benjamin  
~ can't help falling in love by kina grannis
> 
> Hope you enjoy! (and fingers crossed we don't get clowned next episode)

Gilbert was, at his core, a quintessential workaholic; it didn’t sit right in his bones if he wasn’t slaving over textbooks, or beside Bash as he cultivated the farm. However, that wasn’t to say that he didn’t take pleasure in the smaller, simpler moments of peace… so by the spirit of Mary, he’d be damned if he didn’t utterly relish in the picturesque surroundings along his ride to Green Gables. His strawberry-roan gelding maintained his steady canter through the trees and laneways, allowing the young man to take in the colours and greenery around him, small smile gracing his lips.

Blue jays and robins cried and whistled in the canopy above, and Gilbert craned his head back, one hand firmly on the reins, the other holding his Newsboy hat in place on his head. A breathy laugh escaped him as the flickering sun danced off the jays’ cerulean feathers, rays of ocean mixing in with sunlight. His hazel eyes widened as his vision was suddenly encompassed by blue, and not a second later, he watched as a pair of the blue birds tittered past him and off together. They twisted and weaved and flapped their wings in tandem; their soft song, performed solely for them, was heard by Gilbert far louder than the shrieks of the others. He exhaled softly then took a deep breath, gathering up the reins once more as he clicked his horse on.

The ride between the Blythe Farm and the Cuthberts’ was a succinct one, and with half-hearted disappointment, Gilbert brought his horse to a steady halt.

“_Wo-o-oah, eeeaaasy_ there, boy”, he said in a low tone, reaching down to stroke the gelding’s neck before vaulting out of the saddle. With the air of a relaxed expert, he quickly looped the reins onto the hitching post and loosened the girth. Double-checking the package was still in his coat pocket, he bade his stead farewell and turned toward the white cottage.

As he walked up the steps of the porch, knuckles raised ready to knock against the partially opened door, he heard a noise from within. Soft, barely audible, like a broom being swept across the floor. Yet, it had been a singular swish, and thereafter, silence. He frowned, taking a step back to glance around the sides of the house. Neither Matthew, Marilla, nor Anne were within his sight. Furrowing his brows and swallowing thickly, he battled with his sense of propriety and of curiousity.

On one hand, snooping on what could be a moment of necessary solitary would be highly improper and disrespectful; knocking or at least vocalising his arrival would allow whoever was beyond that door a moment of redemption before a guest walked in. He needn’t be privy to whatever personal afflictions the person behind the door may be dealing with. And furthermore, did he really even know what the sound behind the door was? If he rudely walked in on something that wasn’t at his liberty to be shared, he’d be horribly ridden with guilt.

Gilbert had a very level head upon his shoulders, and knew very well the difference between proper and improper, yet something inexplicable in that moment stirred him to quietly turn the handle and step over the threshold of the doorway. Looking to his left, he found himself in a pit of immediate regret and stopped short.

There, at the dinner table he’d found himself seated at during Christmases, Easters and birthdays, sat the infamous youth of the Cuthbert household. She was hunched, head resting forward in the palm of her hand and buried in a piece of paper. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves around her face and shoulders, slightly pinned back by her clenched hand. She appeared as though she were a statue of Persephone, save for the slightest of moment upon her face: her quivering brows, her lip caught between her teeth, and the smallest glimmer of moisture trailing down her cheek, slowing, gathering and then falling onto the paper beneath.

The drop jumpstarted something within Gilbert, and he stepped forward. “…Anne?” he said hesitantly, clearing his throat in the process.

Bolting upright in her seat like a spooked doe, Anne spun in the chair, eyes wide as she took in the unexpected visitor. Sniffling, she hastily made to wipe her face. “Gilbert. I— what are you doing here?”

There was a pause as they just stared at one another. He blinked, taking in a steady breath as his words struggled to structure themselves into sensibility. “I, uh… I’ve come to… return the cufflinks that Matthew graciously lent me.”

“R-right, of course”, the uncharacteristically flighty girl stuttered, getting to her feet and brushing down her pristine dress. “You’ll have to excuse his absence. He’s currently in town with Marilla to see the doctor. He was experiencing some pains in his chest that had us terribly worried.”

“I’m sorry to hear that”, he said earnestly, brows pinching. “I hope he has a swift recovery.”

She smiled sadly at that. “He does as well. It is impeding on his ability to work the farm, which is his heart’s greatest excitement. He’s very anxious to get back to it with his full capacity.”

Gilbert hummed softly, glancing down for a moment. Remembering the weight in his pocket, he reached in and retrieved the small velvet box. He looked back up the meet Anne’s eyes warmly. “Would you mind giving these to him for me, along with my best wishes for his health?”

Gaze flickering from his, she nodded. “Of course.”

Taking that as an invitation to step forward, he moved toward the girl. He did so with caution, remembering how she had so nearly bitten his head off the last time they had spoken at school. Despite his current… relation to Winifred, years of admiration for the fiery girl had left a stutter in his heart whenever he came in close proximity with her. As he stood facing her, head tilted down to meet her eyes, he clenched his jaw.

An eternity seemed to pass between them as it always did whenever their eyes met, thousands of unspoken words swimming behind them. He could see his own hazel ones fluttering in her stormy blue, oceans of phrases and assertions and endless banter material swimming in their depths. Gilbert was an adequate swimmer, yet he felt he might drown if he stared at them for too long. It was a dangerous, uncertain thing to gaze upon Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, yet he found himself getting lost in doing it time and time again.

Taking a sudden breath, he held out the small box with a tight-lipped smile. “Here.”

He watched as her throat constricted, her hand reaching up to collect the treasured item. Fingers skimming his palm as she lifted it from his hand, she looked directly at him before flicking her gaze away. “Thank you, Gilbert...”

Her voice was soft, barely over a mere breath and so different to her normal preacher’s tone, yet it made his heart beat its wings all the more rapidly. Then he realised he’d picked up another aspect of her normally lively voice; she sounded almost choked. Suddenly, he began to pick up on the other revelations: her still slightly hunched posture, her free hand fisted into the side of her dress, the way the skin around her teeth-captured lip was turning white, the blotchiness and redness of her eyes that alluded to there being more than the solo tear he’d seen before.

“If that’s all, it’d be best you get back to Bash and Delphie. I’m certain you have a very strenuous schedule to maintain with the farm, school, and your illustrious business in Charlottetown.”

Her words snapped him out of his reverie, and he took in a breath. “Anne, I—”

In that moment, her eyes snapped up to his, flashing with contempt as they silently challenged him. The ocean was tempestuous, lightning crackling across as visibly reddened veins becoming fiercer and waters deeper. He’d seen Anne angry, he’d seen her scared and seen her scornful. Never had he seen her, this bright, untameable force of nature so utterly hurt, so utterly agonised. It broke all sense of practicality within him and his lips parted with a small breath.

“Did you hear what I said, Gilbert Blythe? Or is your head too full of fantastical visions to comprehend my words?” she bit at him, hackles rising as he refused to move.

This current rift of theirs was harsher than Gilbert had seen since before he’d left for the steamer all those years ago. Gilbert didn’t understand how they had gone from getting along swimmingly to being hit with a slate of snide comments, and blatant disregard for his presence at times.

“Anne… is… is everything alright?” he spoke in soft tones, approaching the aggravated creature carefully.

She took a sudden step back, crashing into the chair as she did so. Arms flailing temporarily as she hurried to steady herself, Gilbert made to catch her, but was stopped by her hand shoving into his chest.

“I’m quite fine, thank you very much”, she said with an air of forced dignity. “I do _not _require _your_ assistance.”

_‘This same old tune, again’_, Gilbert thought with a suppressed role of his eyes. The past few weeks had seen their relationship… their _friendship _blossom into something quite profound and uplifting, but Gilbert would be daft to so quickly forget the years of yoyoing between chums and arch-rivals. Previous instances of Anne’s bursts would’ve seen the dark-haired boy shutting his mouth, or uttering some words to abruptly end the conversation. He saw to it that was not the case this time around.

“Believe me, I know you don’t need my assistance, but I’m happily offering it if need be.”

“Well, there _is_ no need, so you can stop now.”

“Is there _something_ I can do to help? You’re clearly in a state of distress, and I feel that I am to blame, for some reason. What is it?”

“Oh, you’ve done plenty already, and don’t you go paying any attention to my ‘state’ _now._”

“_Plenty_?” he said incredulously, blinking rapidly at Anne, who was now busying herself with shifting the chair back in place and smoothing out the paper on the table. Chancing a look at it, he did a double-take to see it was a single sheet of the school newspaper, though he didn’t recognise the contents nor title as one they’d written as a group.

“‘Unjustified Injustice within Avonlea’?” he read aloud as he reached for it, noting the way the red-haired girl stiffened as he came to stand beside her. Glossing over the fine print, he saw the language was powerful, poetic, and undoubtedly Anne. He turned to the girl in question, breath catching as he realised how close they were once more, struck with the effect her presence had on him. Could she even begin to fathom what she did to him? Did she feel some semblance of similarity to his turmoil?

He couldn’t ask her, as she was far too preoccupied with staring fiercely at the paper, lips pursing as a staggered breath whistled through them. “I wrote it yesterday night, after everyone had gone home. Printed several copies… still trying to figure out the best way of distributing them for as many people as possible to see. I was rereading it one last time to proof-check.”

“At night?” Gilbert pictured Anne, trekking through the dark, midnight forest with nothing but the light of a lantern to guide her. He hissed chidingly, “On your _own_? For goodness’ sake, Anne, you’re not that daft!”

Their eyes met in a moment of fired-up intensity, Anne’s burning holes into his as he stared back with exasperation.

“Since I seem to be the only one with a definitive sense of sound morality in the _entire_ _town_”, she said finally said, venomously and pointedly, “I took it upon myself to write about the disgraceful attitudes of men who take what they want without _any_ regard for who they’re taking it from. Poor, despicable excuses of men like Billy Andrews, who take advantage of women who trust them and they ruin their lives, all while they’re being placed on a pedestal. It honestly _astounds_ me that people cannot only not see the signs of when a person has been so shamefully wronged like Josie, but also have the gall to _blame her!_”

Gilbert watched in silent shock as she panted from the outburst, chest heaving with exertion as she fought to regain dignified composure. In a softer, more stable tone, she continued. “Nevertheless, I persevere and _refuse _to let the small minds around me be clouded by society’s conditioning. I will do absolutely _everything _in my power to ensure that Billy is rightfully punished for his utterly disrespectful behaviour towards Josie Pye, and that she gets the justice she deserves.”

Her blue eyes burned with resolve, staring at the words below them like they might suddenly reach out and drag her into the page along with them. Her breathing hitched and shuddered, and Gilbert watched as she swallowed thickly, his eyes trailing down her neck. Snatching his gaze back up, his heart constricted, face paling as raw, unadulterated emotion surfaced in her eyes, liquid pooling in them but never falling. Something deflated in his chest as he watched the frustration form through her fiercely narrowed eyebrows, the stubborn set of her jaw, the trembling grimace on her mouth. Whatever was going through her mind was literally tearing her apart from the inside out.

“You… really care about this, don’t you?” he murmured hesitantly.

“Of course I do!” Gilbert stepped back as she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, “It’s the greatest injustice and everyone is just standing by and letting it play out in favour of the malefactor! I can’t possibly just… sit idle and let this happen to anyone, not _least_ of all my_ friend_. Not when I know the utter devastation is weighs on one’s soul. _No _one deserves to experience that kind of torture.”

Anne was visibly shaking now, locking eyes with Gilbert as he tried to discern her words. There was something else that was seeping through the lines… something that Anne wasn’t letting him in on…

Taking a cautionary step forward, he maintained eye contact as he asked, “Is what you’re suggesting happened with Josie the… only reason?”

She straightened, blinking rapidly. “Of… of course… what other reason would I need?”

“I’m not quite sure”, he admitted with a small shrug, looking deep into her ocean orbs, “I just don’t quite understand why you’re going to such lengths for something that may or may not be true.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Well, if you don’t blatantly understand it as is, then I’m afraid I can’t explain it to you, Gilbert Blythe. Though, I thought _you _of all people _would _understand. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“Then _help_ me to understand”, he said, walking after her as she turned away.

“No, I don’t wish to speak with you anymore on this matter.”

“Anne, _please_, just talk to me.”

“You have overstayed your welcome.”

“You’re my friend, I want to help.”

“Well, it’s a bit too late for that.”

“Why?” he knew his voice was raising as he chased the fleeing girl, “What is it about this? Why are you so bent on helping Josie Pye?”

“Because it’s happened to me too, _okay?!_” she screamed, face ablaze as she huffed.

A curtain of silence fell upon the pair, and all Gilbert could help to do was stare at the fuming girl. Over the next few moments, raw anger faded to a look of shock, then of horror, and her eyes and mouth widened.

Blinking repeatedly, he took a deep breath, then softly said, “What?”

Anne looked like she wanted nothing more than to take her leave and run up the stairs she stood at the foot of, biting her lip as she looked to the side. “I… it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, actually”, he said fervently, taking another step toward her, “it does. It matters a great deal.”

“Gilbert, please”, she said as her eyes closed, “Just leave it be.”

“I can’t; not when I can clearly see how much this is affecting you. And… well, despite whatever… incident has caused this new rift between us, you are _still_ my friend… my kindred spirit”, he added with a hesitant smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say as Anne turned resolutely away from him. Her eyes glued themselves to the wall as a pained expression overtook her face. Her arms crossed her chest, hands gripping her elbows protectively as her shoulders deflated. Gilbert’s fingers twitched in her direction, and he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.

So they stood in silence. Not the comfortable silence they’d grown accustomed to during their vocational studies with Ms. Stacey, in which they’d occasionally steal glances at one another, exchanging small smiles. It wasn’t even the same as the awkward silences that tended to follow after one of them (usually Anne) had a sudden outburst of passion. No, this one was much worse.

At a loss for what to do, Gilbert cleared his throat, waiting till Anne’s eyes were only just on him before he pointed to the infamous newspaper sheet behind him. “Do you mind if I read it?”

Seemingly at a loss for words, and quite jarringly for Gilbert, she shook her head then cast her eyes down. He muttered out a quick thank-you before moving to the table, sitting just in front of Anne’s article. And then he read.

Very early on, Gilbert realised that this wasn’t just another puff piece or whimsical anecdote that Anne had written while she let her mind wander. There were no words of adoration or fairy tales. No, it wasn’t that at all. This was a critically and decisively constructed manifesto, targeted at breaking down the walls of the stubbornest of Avonlea. The words hit him like a train, shocking him to his very core. Some things were simple facts; some Gilbert was consciously aware of, others he wasn’t and struggled to digest. However, other phrases were so blunt and so forward that the young man found himself growing in agitation and outrage, and by the time he read the last word, his vision was blurring.

Mouth agape, he stared at it, sniffing and blinking away the angry tears before they could fall of their own accord. He rested an elbow on the table, hand combing back through his hair as his mind reeled.

What Anne had written… well, there’d be a lot of people in town who would struggle to listen. Like most things she did, she hadn’t held back, and it had shown through her words. They were cutthroat, utterly ruthless in getting their message across, and then the words of empathy… normally, they were so beautifully tragical that they made your heart burst. However, these were so personal and bold and shameless that Gilbert felt quite indecent reading the implications they held. He looked at them and found that _he _was the one feeling ashamed.

Looking up, he saw that Anne had come to stand somewhat beside him, though still maintaining her distance. Her arms were still crossed in front of her, but she looked directly at him as she lifted her brows.

Taking a breath, he turned to properly face her. “Anne, this… it’s a lot to take in.”

“Good”, she said clearly, “it _should_ be. It’s not a light issue.”

He nodded, now realising the obvious truth in her words the day prior, and completely berating himself for being so dismissive of something so important. As his mind reread the words to him, he saw glimpses of Mary and what she’d told him of raising Elijah, the unfair prejudice directed toward Ms. Stacey, that young Caribbean woman who’d been shunned from the brothel, and the most recent occurrence of Josie Pye streaming out of the barn dance in tears while Billy Andrews sauntered past him. His stomach turned.

Suddenly, his first encounter with Anne flooded in; a younger, smaller, skinnier girl who stood frozen as a larger and stronger Billy towered over her. His mind dared to wonder what might have transpired had he arrived another two minutes later. Bile rose in his throat.

He swallowed thickly as he looked at the older version that stood before him: dignified, elegant, and fierce. His heart raced as his eyes flickered between hers, rays of sunlight catching in their blue hues, making them a golden-flecked evergreen ocean. They seemed to be meeting his own steadfast gaze with just as much intensity.

Something she’d said before suddenly came back to him, and he licked his lips. “You said before that... it’s happened to you.” he said slowly. “Did you mean to say that… that what happened to Josie…”

She sighed, unfurling her arms as she came to take the seat beside him. She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hands as she stared at the wall. “It’s a thing from my past… from another lifetime…”

When she didn’t continue, he shuffled his chair closer. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. If it’s too painful. But understand that I am fully willing to listen, and not judge and not ridicule you in any way. Whatever you need.”

She glanced at him from her periphery. Taking a deep breath, she turned in her chair to partially face him and clasped her hands together. She looked up at him through serious eyes. “It’s from a time I try to imagine I’ve forgotten… You may… look at me differently after I tell you this.”

His heart clenched, and he knew for certain it was showing bright as day on his face. Good. She needed to know how much he cared for her.

Leaning forward into unknown territory, he gently took her hand in his and squeezed it. “Anne, whatever it is you have to tell me… it could _never_ change how highly I think of you. I swear it.”

She fully turned to face him then, auburn-red hair cascading down her shoulders. He heard a small breath escape her parted lips as she looked at him with ocean-wide eyes. Then, she inhaled deeply and steadily, those incredibly blue eyes filled with resolution, and spoke.

“Before I came to Avonlea, back when I still lived at the orphanage in Nova Scotia, I was… not exactly of popular opinion. Of the families, the matrons or the other girls. I ‘talked too loud and far too much’, I was ‘much too outspoken and imaginative for an orphan girl’ and, of course,” she said with a dry laugh, “let’s not forget my sickly, skinny, freckled appearance, accompanied with this disastrous mop of red freakishness.”

Gilbert had an urge to dispute every single one of those claims fervently until Anne and those ridiculous idiots took them back, yet he silenced himself as the girl continued.

“Anyway, because of these things, I was often the easy target of many of the girls’ aggression. That took form in… several ways”, she breathed, gaze flickering from Gilbert’s. His thumb caressed her hand coaxingly, patiently, waiting for her as she worked through her demons. “Some simply played pranks; knowing how much I adored literature, they’d wait till we were all in bed, then mimic me reading aloud until one of the matrons arrived, hiding just before they came in. The matrons knew how I recited novels, and would punish me with a second glance. Those were… more tolerable.”

She hunched in on her shoulders, just barely, but enough to be seen as close as Gilbert was to her. “Then, there were gang practices. The girls would just _love _to find me in some secluded corner of the orphanage – usually the attic – and launch a surprise attack. It tended to involved them holding me down whilst one of the older girls… dangled a dead mouse above my mouth… I still shudder every time I come across one in the barn.”

Gilbert, pale and nauseated, had never before in his life wanted to hit a girl, until that very moment as he pictured the horrifying scene surrounding a young and terrified Anne.

She wasn’t yet finished, however, as she took in a shuddering breath and broke her eye contact with him. “The most confusing and agonising, though, was when those older girls, particularly this dark-haired one, would use me… experimentally.”

He could see the way her chest rose and fell more rapidly, and her breathing became more laboured. He squeezed her hand, praying that it would bring her some solace and ground her solidly to the earth. The weight of what she was talking about was so evidently heavy on her shoulders, and Gilbert ached to know she was having to relive such horrid nightmares to tell him. “If it’s too hard, you don’t have to continue.”

She sniffled, and it was then he saw the fresh red rim around her eyes. She stubbornly wiped at them. “N-no, it’s fine. I want to get this out. I _have _to.”

Taking another second to breathe, she kept going. “I… it was… she was always alone when she found me… I was often just reading some new escape of my fancy, or dreaming of Princess Cordelia with her midnight hair, and she’d come in and find me alone. She… she would walk over to me, this… _wild _sort of look on her face, this grin that just shouted ‘I can take what I want’. And… she did… several times.”

All while she was telling the story as calmly as she could, Gilbert’s mind was racing at full steam. His instincts had kicked in and were screaming ‘fight’ at him, standing protectively in front of Anne, snarling at anyone who dared come too close for her comfort.

“Most of the time, it was just her stopping mere inches from my face, just breathing hot and heavily on my cheek. Other times, she’d see to… find out how far she could drag her tongue up my face before I squirmed out of the way. Once or twice… she would… she’d just stop at my mouth and stay there for a while…”

“For the longest time, I couldn’t fathom what could possibly compel her to do it. But then, this one day, I saw one of the pastors stop by, who would often come and give us lectures on how we were orphans because God saw the wicked dirtiness in us the second we were born. I watched him pull this girl into a closet with him, and close it almost completely. My curiousity… my own Achilles’ Heel and the thing sure to get me in absolute trouble one of these days… well, heaven forbid I didn’t go and find out what they were doing that was so secretive…”

“As I neared the door, I heard a muffled sort of moan, and the pastor made a hushing sound. I managed to peak through the gap and very nearly let out a gasp”, she said, flexing her fingers underneath Gilbert’s. “He had her in the very same position she often had me in, except he was so much more… precise in his actions. He wasn’t experimental at all.”

Her eyes shone with unbridled emotion as she looked up into Gilbert’s. “I don’t know what possessed me but in that moment, I felt sorry for her. So unbelievably sorry for this girl who had been the very bane of my existence for so long. I just saw the way that wild look in her eyes had contrasted to the one of complete terror there, and I… I understood. Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t excuse what she did in any way, shape or form, and I pray that God holds her accountable, but that feeling of powerlessness was just… emanating off her in waves.”

“So when we were all dancing and the rumours started to spread, I kept glancing to Josie and I just _knew_”, she said, tears pooling as she bit her lip. “I knew that this beautiful, audacious girl, who took attitude from no one but herself, had just had a piece of her innocence ripped from her soul and was being paraded around on Billy’s lies.”

She shook her head fervently, glancing away. “I was disgusted enough with his behaviour alone, but when everyone else seemed to only be interested in how it was _Josie’s _purity that been tainted, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.” Her eyes met Gilbert’s once more, but with a renewed strength crackling like kindling underneath. “I had to write this. This… manifesto to women. To _everyone _who has been judged or ruined for something beyond their control. I don’t care if I get ridiculed or shunned or cast out from society for this, because this _needed_ to be said. If no one else was going to step up, then it was my solemn duty to do so. Regardless of the consequences.”

For not the first time in his life (and definitely not the last), Gilbert Blythe was positively floored by the unshakeable strength of Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, staring at this fierce red-haired wonder with a dumbstruck expression. He hadn’t even imagined what troubles still plagued her from her time before Green Gables, he hadn’t the faintest clue, really, until now. To realise the extent of what she’d endured, and what kind of trauma she must’ve been putting herself in right then to see this article printed and released, Gilbert could only look at her with pure admiration.

He reached with his other hand to enclose hers entirely, rubbing circles along the smooth ridges with his thumb. She looked at him expectantly, imploringly, breath baited as he found the right words. “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert… you are so phenomenally incredible.”

At that, her mouth popped open with a small gasp. Gilbert smiled softly at her, feeling his eyes prickling with emotion as he stared at this wonderful, beautiful girl.

No. This _woman_.

Slowly but surely, she returned the gesture, and delicately placed her other hand on top of his, squeezing firmly, but comfortingly. Gilbert was sure he was two seconds away from having an aneurysm his heart was beating so powerfully in his chest, relishing in the feel of her soft palms resting against his calloused hands. Their chairs had shifted so close that their knees were grazing each other, and he felt the sudden inexplicable urge to bump his gently against hers. They still held eye contact and with it the thousands of concealed messages that words could only dream of telling. Propriety be damned at that moment, Gilbert could’ve happily stayed there for all eternity and not felt a minute pass. It all felt so… _right._

_‘Winifred’_, a voice suddenly whispered in his ear, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to flicker his gaze away for a moment.

Anne seemed to catch on as she too shifted, removing her hands from his as she cleared her throat. “S-So, you think it’s alright to… post?”

“I think it’s perfect”, he replied without hesitation, eyes glinting at her as he then said, “Billy is going to regret the day he ever crossed you.”

Smiling initially, he felt some unholy heart palpitation when she then smirked. ”Excellent; so he should. It’d probably be the most intelligent thought he’s had since… well now, gosh, you know, I don’t very well know if there _is _indeed a time when Billy has had an intelligent thought.”

They both burst in laughter, new fresher, brighter tears in their eyes as they looked at each other with flushed faces. Sunlight was streaming in from a window behind Gilbert and straight into Anne’s eyes, golden rays collecting themselves in the beautiful intricacies their oceanic depths. Gilbert briefly wondered if he’d ever be able to come up for oxygen while around Anne. He found himself seriously doubting it, and seriously doubting that he’d mind if no.

“Truly beautiful”, he murmured, gaze locked on her as she regained composure, dimples showing as she beamed at him.

He picked up the article once more, lopsided smile on his face. “Would you mind terribly if I helped you distribute these? It’s the very least I can do.”

Her gaze softened and smiled a little more surreptitiously then, tilting her chin up charmingly. “I don’t think I’d mind in the slightest.”

Blue jays twittered outside, sunlight reflecting off their ocean blue wings and dancing into the house. Not a flock, but a single pair, dancing around each other, darting backwards and forwards and this way and that, but always coming back to one another. Two individuals working together to create something truly magnificent to behold.

**Author's Note:**

> reviews and kudos are always much appreciated <3


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